“Calder, the tavern needs someone down there,” I say, my words sharp with irritation.
“It’s fine. The guard is down there.” He waves a hand like it’s nothing. “I’m really sorry, Koen. We didn’t think they would choose someone from some small village. But honestly, I think this will be good for you.”
“How will participating in a trial that couldkill mebe good for me?” My jaw tightens.
“I have faith in you.” He hesitates, then sighs. “I know you’re not happy here. What you’ve been doing…it’s not even living. You don’t come out with us anymore. You’ve grown tired of this place. This village. You need more. You need this.”
Then, of course, he grins. “Plus, the princess is,like,reallybeautiful. If you win, you’ll get a gorgeous wife, and you’ll be king. Then I can visit you and have my own chambers inthe royal palace.” He puts his hands on his hips, shaking his head, still grinning. “Fuck, man. I’m a genius. You’ll get out of this village, win, get married, and invite me to all the royal events. Maybe even set me up with some of the princess’s friends.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to convince myself that I shouldn’t punch him. “I’m not going for her. I’m going because I’m beingforcedto. I don’t care if I win. I just want to survive and then come back.”
His grin fades, seriousness settling in. “Don’t. I like having you here, but it isn’t what you want. I haven’t seen you happy in a long time. Promise me you’ll try. Not just to survive, butto win. Try to get to know the princess. She’s a mystery. People say she used to always be around her people, smiling and helping any way she could, but for the last few decades, she hasn’t left the palace much. Not many humans in our generation have even laid eyes on her.”
“Great,” I grumble. “A princess who has given up on her people. Who would rather sit in luxury than help. Not interested.”
He groans. “You’re helpless, Koen.”
I finish packing in silence, and we head back downstairs. The guard is leaning against the bar, mug in hand.
“You were gone a while…” He pauses, lifting a brow.
I glare at him.
“…anyways, I helped myself to some ale. Left some coin on the bar top.” He sets the mug down and turns back to me. “Ready? If I get back too late for dinner, the princess will kick my ass.” His tone is half warning, half annoyance.
“Not helping her case,” I mutter to Calder.
He pats me on the back as I pass him. “Just try. And maybe act less…grumpy.”
I grunt a response, sling the satchel over my shoulder, and follow Torin out. He leads me to the stable, where two of the royal guard’s horses wait. Ten minutes later, we are riding toward Elarion, Syltheriel’s capital.
Eventually, the road curves along the lake, its surface shimmering under the fading light. I walk beside Torin in silence, the hooves of our horses clopping softly behind us. We decided to walk the last stretch to give them a break.
“You’re sure you don’t want to try to run?” Torin asks finally.
I snort. “And go where? It’s not like they would just wave and let me go back home.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “What exactly am I being delivered to? A bloodbath?”
“Probably.” He says it like it’s nothing serious at all.
I drag a hand over my face. “You’ve seen the trials before?”
“No. The last was before I was born. King Thalon was the victor that year.” A shadow crosses his face. “They only happen when it’s time for a new heir to take the throne.”
“So you don’t actually know what to expect,” I mutter. “That’s comforting.”
Torin chuckles under his breath. “I know what they say. That the trials test your strength, your heart, and your will. Thatthey make men or monsters. Depends on the kind of soul you bring into them.”
“Right,” I say. “And it’s only humans who get to throw their lives away for this…honor. We break our bones for a chance at what you fae are born with. Seems fair.”
“Survive the trials, and you earn it,” Torin says. “The blessing, the strength, the immortality. It means something that way.”
“Sure,” I mutter. “Nothing says honor like dying to prove that we are not completely useless.”
He doesn’t argue with that. We walk in silence for a while, the crunch of gravel and the wind the only noise.
Eventually, he turns, studying me. “You’re nervous.”
“I’ve been entered into a deadly competition without my knowledge, and now I’m walking to my own execution. Wouldn’t you be nervous?”
